My name is Napoleon, Poe Poe to those who love me most, and I have one job in this family: love them as hard as I possibly can. So far, I am absolutely crushing it. But getting here? That took a little boy named Barrett who wanted me so badly he could barely breathe. The moment he saw my photo sitting in that air vent on the Watermelon Ranch adoption page, it was over. He was not taking no for an answer, and honestly, I respect that. Some things are just meant to be.

What Barrett did not know when he dragged his family to come meet me was that I was already a survivor. I had battled Parvo at just four to six weeks old, a disease that is mostly fatal, with no treatment and nothing but sheer determination. The news even covered it. The people at Watermelon Ranch fought hard for me and I fought even harder. My joints are a little weak from the whole ordeal, but do not feel sorry for me. I fetch. I run mountain trails. I do somersaults on the bed just to get a laugh. I lick people until they beg me to stop and then I lick them a little more because I believe in thoroughness.

When the family arrived to meet me, I was out on a walk because I am very popular. When I returned and flashed my sweetest face, they were completely done for. They said if I was still there when they came back, they would take me home.

Reader, I waited.

I now share my home on Vista Montana Loop with my siblings, Donna the dog and our cat, Maisy. Donna and I play fight until we both collapse into exhausted heaps. Maisy tolerates me. I lick her anyway. Sadly, we recently lost our beloved cat, Maverick, and his memory lives in our hearts every single day. Every one of us in this family is a rescue. It is a labor of love, and the Shelton's would not have it any other way. They accept every challenge we present, and they seek those challenges out, meeting them with open arms and open hearts. They believe that dog spelled backwards is God, and that we are exactly that. Gifts. Pure and simple.

Now, about my reputation in the neighborhood. Apparently, Donna and I are known as troublemakers. TROUBLEMAKERS. Us. One time a meter reader opened our gate without so much as a knock and set us free. Were we supposed to just stand there? And that story about us opening someone's sliding door AND screen door? Absolutely not. I have paws, not thumbs.

I will admit that fireworks are not my thing. The second those booms start; I am under the piano faster than you can say Happy Fourth of July. It is called self-preservation and I stand by it completely.

But here is what I want you to know most. I survived everything life threw at me and landed in a home where I am so deeply, completely loved. I get to go on adventures, sleep in the big bed, chase balls in the yard, and be surrounded by my people every single day.

Barrett knew it from the very beginning. I was always meant to be a Shelton.

Big paws. Bigger heart. Zero regrets.